


Ordinary Day

by ZenkX



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenkX/pseuds/ZenkX
Summary: So what does go on in an ordinary day for the Inquisitor? A look into what happens to Idril Lavellan when she's not off closing rifts and fighting. (Set during the events before the Wicked Hearts story line)





	1. Leliana

**Author's Note:**

> Authoress' Notes:
> 
> I'm sorry, I'm bored out of my mind. XD
> 
> Anyway, I made this after finishing my first playthrough of Inquisitions, and I'm playing it again with an elf mage now (I played the human origin first). I'm at the part where I'm supposed to head to Halamshiral, but I'm still doing side quest, which kind of made me think about making this… what it's like for an ordinary day for the Inquisitor. (with mentions/ appearances of my old heroes, Jenna Cousland and Amanda Hawke)
> 
> Let me know what you think, yeah? (Oh great, and now I'm sounding like Sera)
> 
> Like/ Comment are appreciated! <3
> 
> Originally posted at my Fanfiction.Net website

It was the strange squawking noise that woke her.

The woman’s almond-shaped, violet eyes opened just a little bit, but she squinted when the bright light of the morning sun blinded her. Groaning, she turned around, away from the offending light and noise, only to be once again disturbed by the squawking of what seemed to be a black raven, hopping to and fro from her balcony. The creature didn’t seem to have the intent of going away, and with a frustrated sigh, the woman pushed her covers back and sat up. Her movement must’ve signaled something in the bird, and it flew away, blissfully bringing her noise away from her room and back at the rookery.

“Inquisitor? Are you awake?”

The woman shook her long, silvery hair from her forehead, running both her hands against her heart-shaped face, the red-tinted _vallaslin_ that spread through her cheekbones and fair skin, before scratching her pointed ears. Her full, pouty red lips opened into a yawn, before she groaned again. “I am now, Leliana. Can’t I get a more pleasant morning call from now on? Like a nightingale or a lark by my window instead of a raven?”

The door to her room opened to let in a lithe woman, wearing a long coat and a hood covering her red hair. The woman’s lips smiled a little at the sight of her disheveled appearance, before bowing courteously, “Perhaps, if you ask that request to Josie, she’ll oblige you. She has sent me up here to tell you that you still have a judgment to impose, as well as the preparations for the ball in Halamshiral are to be done today.”

At the mention of the ball, the woman groaned again and flumped back into her pillows, earning a giggle from her spymaster, “Ugh… do I have to?”

“We must, if we have any intentions of saving Empress Celene.” Leliana said, and this time, she came forward and pulled at her covers, causing the Inquisitor to groan again. “So, Inquisitor Lavellan, I must insist that you get ready… unless you want me to spread the word that you fell head over bottom during your travel in the Fallow Mire yesterday.”

Idril Lavellan, head of the Inquisition, looked up in shock at the former lay sister, before scowling, “Who told you that?!”

The spymaster laughed, “Your companions tell the most colorful stories, Inquisitor.”

“Ugh. Varric again, I presume?” The elf guessed, before throwing off her covers and standing in her nightshirt, “Fine, fine. I’ll get ready. Tell Josephine I’ll be with her in a moment. Blackmailing shems, the lot of you… almost broke my neck fighting that damned Avvar…”

Leliana bowed respectfully again, grinning at her grumpy Inquisitor, before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

 


	2. Josephine

The woman paced impatiently by the door, her board tight against her chest, wringing her hands nervously. It was only when she heard the shuffling by the inside of the door that she finally stopped her movements and arranged herself to be more presentable.

Idril came out of the door, still yawning a little, but at least looking pleasant with her hair in a bun at her head, and with a hint of color at her white skin. At the sight of her Ambassador, she nodded and headed to the throne of her great hall, where there was, thankfully, a cup of coffee by the side. She took a seat, and sipped her coffee, before looking at Josephine expectantly.

The crowd of people in front of the throne silenced when she sat on the throne, and two guards came in, carrying holding on to what looked like a man with a goat horns and a hood. At the sight of the man, Idril’s violet eyes widened, and her snowy brow rose up in confusion at Josephine.

“This was a surprise.” Josephine admitted, “After you returned from the bogs, we discovered this man attacking. The building. With a… goat.”

At the mention of the animal, Idril’s cheeks puffed up a little in laughter, but she hid it with a cough and looked at the man as Josephine continued. “Chief Movran the Under. He feels slighted by the killing of his Avvar tribesmen. Who repeatedly attacked you first. What should we do with him? Where… should he go?”

Idril looked at the man before leaning back against her chair and putting her fingers together, “You answered the death of your clan… with a goat?”

The man… Movran, moved forward and chuckled, “A courtroom? Unnecessary! You killed my idiot son, and I answered, as is my custom, by smacking your holdings with goat’s blood.”

 _With the blood still_ in _the goat, apparently._ Idril thought as she once again stifled her laughter and looking at Josephine, who immediately looked back at her and shrugged, “Don’t look at me.”

“No foul!” Movran spoke again, “He meant to murder Tevinters, but got feisty with the Inquisition. A red-headed mother guarantees a brat. Do as you’ve earned, Inquisitor. My clan yields. My remaining boys have brains still in their heads!” He laughed at his private joke.

 _Luckily for you, Leliana isn’t here. She’d kill you if she had heard that red-headed mother comment. Fine then._ Idril thought as she sighed, “It seems our conflict was accidental, Chief Movran, but it can’t be repeated. I banish you and your clan- with as many weapons as you can carry- to Tevinter.”

At her judgment, the chief blinked, before a smile seemed to brighten his features, and he started laughing, “My idiot boy got us something after all!”

The man continued to laugh as the soldiers took him away, and Idril sighed as Josephine came forward again, “Nicely done, Inquisitor. But now to the other matters at hand, the seamstress has required that we take your measurements for the dress you are going to wear in Halamshiral.”

“Dress?!” Idril exclaimed, causing some of the people to look at her in surprise as they had begun to clear out the hall, “You never told me anything about a dress, Josephine!”

The ambassador looked shocked, “I didn’t? But I gave a messenger the sketch designs for your dress, Inquisitor. Did you not receive them?”

“No, I didn’t.” The elf said as she leaned back against the throne looking annoyed.

“Ah, no matter.” Josephine said, waving a hand, “I have copies of the designs at my table. Please stay here, Inquisitor.”

Idril waved a hand at her, and she walked back to her door, which was the second one on the right of the hall. She headed straight for her table, seeing the designs and took them with her as she exited. But as she neared the throne, she realized that the elf was gone. She groaned as she rubbed her forehead.

“Oh Maker, not again.”

 


	3. Solas

“Hi, Solas! Bye, Solas!”

“Wait, what?” The lithe, bald elf looked down to see Idril, almost rushing to the door of the library, but at the sound of his voice, she looked up at him from atop of his platform, grinning a little. At the sight of her grin, he couldn’t help but smile back as he lowered his paints and headed for the ladder down to her. “And where is the Inquisitor heading at such as rush?”

“Hiding.” Idril replied, causing him to chuckle as he slid down the ladder and heading to his desk, where she followed, “I had just finished judging, and now Josephine wants me to look at dresses. _Dresses,_ Solas!”

“If I am not mistaken, Josephine has already showed you the sketches for your clothes, lethallan.” He said as he leaned against the table with his hips, and she followed suit, shivering in exaggeration.

“They. Are. Dresses. And I was sure that Josephine had arranged all of you to wear suits, so how come _I_ have to wear a dress?”

He smiled gently, “Because you are the Inquisitor, and we are headed to Empress Celene’s court. In Orlais, it is important to keep up appearances to garner the admiration and respect of the court, if we wish to save her and the Empire.”

She huffed, “But I can still look respectful wearing the same suit as everyone, right?! Besides, have you seen the sketches, lethallin? They were _puffed skirts!_ ”

At the Inquisitor’s indignant exclamation, Solas laughed, and soon she followed suit. “I am sure you would look just as beautiful with a puffed skirt on, _ma’ falon_. And if you dislike the skirts so much, why don’t you ask Josephine to just let you wear a suit?”

Idril sighed in despair, “Because I don’t have the heart to see her disappointed. _Fenedhis,_ I am doomed.”

Solas chuckled again as he reached over and patted her hand, “You doubt way too much on your ambassador, I am sure she will understand the request if you tell her…”

“INQUISITOR! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Solas and Idril looked towards the door heading to the hall, hearing Josephine screech, before they looked at each other. Idril looked pleadingly at Solas with her wide, violet eyes, “I was never here, you understand?”

He smiled and nodded gently, “ _Ma nuvenin, lethallin.”_

Idril’s face brightened into a grin, and she rushed forward and hugged Solas around the midrift, before whispering, “ _ma serranas”_ and running up the stairs to the library. He smiled again, smelling the lingering scent of lavenders from her, before he shook his head and headed towards the door to greet an irate Josephine.

 


	4. Dorian Pavus

**“** Festis bei umo canavarum, woman! You’re in a library!”

Josephine covered her mouth as she entered the library, and looked to her left to see a handsome mage, sitting on a chintz chair reading a book by the window. He looked thoroughly annoyed as he shifted, the various fabrics of his robes shimmering against the light.

“And what has gotten up that ruffled skirt to cause you such a fit?” Dorian smirked at her, before standing and heading to her, “Have you finally tested the ‘Grey Warden’ stamina, dear Ambassador?”

Josephine’s mocha skin darkened as she blushed, “Shush! I will not have you slandering Blackwall’s name, or mine, Tevinter.”

The Altus’ mage grinned, “My dear Josephine, I was not slandering. I was merely stating facts… or perhaps predicting the future? At any rate, why are you shouting yourself hoarse? You would not be able to speak to our guests if you lose your melodious voice.”

“It’s the Inquisitor, she’s hiding again.” Josephine said, “She said she hadn’t seen the sketches for the dress she was going to wear, but I could see now that she had lied. And now she’s gone. Has she been through this way, Dorian?”

Dorian smirked, “If the designs presented to her were the ones you found here in the library, then I would understand why she hid. The dresses were so old fashioned… and the colors! Egad! And you are confused as to why she would be gone?” He shook his head, “At any rate, she isn’t here. Did you ask Solas if she had passed his room?”

“He said she didn’t come through.” Josephine said.

Dorian spread his arms and laid a hand on Josephine’s shoulder to usher her out, “Ah! There it is then. If the elf says he did not see him, then he didn’t. Solas hardly lies, remember? Perhaps you have taken the wrong door, and she headed off towards the gardens, yes?”

Josephine nodded dejectedly, “Alright… I’ll look for her there. If you see her, please tell her that this is an urgent matter.”

The man nodded as he opened the door for her, “It’ll reach her, I’m sure. Do have fun looking for her.” He grinned at her as she walked away, the golden fabric of her skirt shifting, before she headed down the stairs again towards the hall. He breathed out a little before closing the door.

“Is she gone, Dorian?”

He smiled as he walked back towards his chair, seeing the half of Idril’s face peeking at him. At the sight of her, he grinned and pulled on his chair a little to give room for the elf, before settling down on it again. “Gone, but will return, I am afraid. But the dresses she had planned for you are rather horrid, aren’t they?”

Idril groaned as she moved out of the back of his chair and settled on the window sill near him, “Puffed. Skirts. There is no way in Thedas I am going to wear a puffed skirt. What if we _do_ meet the assassin and we’d have to fight him? What am I supposed to do, cage him in my skirt until we get back to Skyhold?”

“We could make the hoops to be made out of iron and add a lock to it. But then you wouldn’t be able to dance.” Dorian joked, and she grinned at him. “And you would be giving the man a peek at your smallclothes. Not that he’d dislike that, I’m sure.”

Idril laughed little, “Well, I’m sure you would dislike that.”

“And see the rare, pinkish arse of the Herald? I wouldn’t say no to that. I’ll be sure to describe it properly if I could… Maker knows your admirers would love that.” Dorian grinned again at her, and she laughed a little louder, before she uselessly smacked his hand. “Anyway, what shall we do with you, to keep you hidden from the wrath of Josephine, hmm?”

“I don’t care where you hide me, as long I don’t have to wear that stupid, puffed skirt.”

“Ah, perfection! There is a place I could hide you then!” Dorian exclaimed as he stood up and took her hand, “Come, I know just the place for you to hide.”


	5. Vivienne

“Treacherous, blackmailing shems, the lot of you…”

Dorian threw back his head and laughed as Idril flinched, grasping the pole of Vivienne’s canopied bed so tightly, her knuckles had turned white. The dark-skinned woman was behind her, lacing up a corset and adjusting the underskirt the Inquisitor was wearing as she held her breath, squirming.

“ _Do_ hold still, my dear. We would never be finish with this if you keep wriggling.” Vivienne’s cool voice told her as she pulled on the laces again. “Thank you for bringing her to me, Dorian darling. I do appreciate the help.”

“You are welcome, dear Vivienne.” Dorian said smirking, “And thank _you_ for the payment. It is very much obliged.” He said as he threw five sovereigns in the air and caught them, smirking down at Idril. “I have something to pay Varric now, I believe I owe him this after that ridiculous bet we made.”

“Betrayed by my best friend for five sovereigns… ugh! _Fenedhis,_ Vivienne, I can’t breathe anymore!” Idril cried out as Vivienne tightened the corset again.

“Nonsense, my dear! I am quite familiar with these corsets, and I can assure you there is still breathing room for you.” Vivienne said again, “But it seems you are gaining a little weight, darling. You ought to lose that. So, what shall we dress our dear Inquisitor in, Dorian? I have seen the sketches, and they are positively _dreadful_. I will not allow her to wear such out-dated fashions in the Empress’ court.”

Dorian settled into a chair near them and crossed his legs, “Hmmm… silk, perhaps? She is too fair-skinned to wear white. Perhaps an emerald green dress, then?”

Vivienne tied the corset tightly, causing Idril to grunt a little, before walking a little around her, “No, no… emerald green would clash horribly with her hair. Perhaps… a violet dress, no puffed skirt, of course. We should accentuate that shape, darling. Hmmm… a violet skirt, trimmed with blue around the chest, embroidered in silver. And a matching amethyst necklace, to bring out her eyes. Or perhaps something soft, like pink or peach…?”

“I. Am. Not. Wearing. Pink.” Idril muttered through gritted teeth, taking short breaths,  as the corset was too tight.

“You’re right, darling. Pink is too much of an unflattering color.” Vivienne said as she headed to her closet, “Stay right there, my dear, I’ll see if I have a dress for you.”

Idril huffed, “It’s not like I can move in this, Vivienne.”

But the mage was already looking around her closet, “Dorian, do watch over her. She’s a sly little thing, and I can’t have her going around in her undergarments.”

Dorian smirked at Idril, “Of course, my dear Vivienne. I am getting quite the eyeful of her, and so I am content at not moving.”

The elf glowered at him, causing him to laugh again, and she shook her head as she muttered again, “Treacherous, blackmailing shems…”

 


	6. Varric Tethras

“Now this… this I have to write down for a book someday. Looking pretty good there, Inquisitor.”

The dwarf chuckled as he headed into Vivienne’s room only to see the Inquisitor standing amidst the area, wearing an undershirt and skirt, with a corset, looking even more paler than usual. Dorian and Vivienne were holding two different hued fabrics to her chest, glaring at the intrusion.

“Is there something you need, dwarf?” Dorian said to him as he lowered the fabric and reached for a pink colored silk, “We are busy at the moment, as you surely have noticed.”

Varric chuckled as he entered the threshold, “As much as I would like to stay and tell you to continue your business, there is something important that needs our Inquisitor’s attention.” Idril blinked and looked at him, as he bowed gallantly, “I am afraid our young Cole is missing again, your Inquisitorialness.”

Vivienne huffed, “Don’t be daft, Varric darling. The demon is probably lingering around the grounds again, ‘healing hurts’ or some strange drabble.”

“All the more reason that she needs to look for him.” Varric said, opening his hands, “A demon lingering about the grounds, unchecked?”

Vivienne stopped midway from picking up another silk when Varric spoke, and soon she lowered the silk before turning around and glaring at the dwarf, “You’d better not be lying, Varric.”

Varric nodded, “Over something as serious as a missing demon? I assure you, Iron Lady, I am not lying.”

Dorian and Vivienne looked at each other and lowered the fabrics they were holding before turning to Idril, “Very well, do look for the boy, my dear. I know you dote on him, and it would be a shame if I end up freezing him alive if I see him.”

Idril nodded solemnly, before running towards Varric, who bowed and ran after her just as Dorian shouted, “Fasta vass, woman, wear something over those underclothes…!”

Varric chuckled as they headed down the stairs to Solas’ study, who merely smirked and shook his head, and they opened the doors to the ramparts heading to Cullen’s tower, which was thankfully empty as the Commander was currently training their troops.

“Did you look in his usual place at the tavern, Varric?” Idril said breathlessly as she stopped running and started walking instead.

“Yeah, he’s there.” Varric said, and Idril looked down at him in confusion, “Cole was actually the one who sent me. He sensed that you were hurting, and he told me. I said I’d check up on you. Good thing, too… you look like you’re about to run out of air from that contraption.”

Idril’s confused face turned into that of a happy woman, and she bent over and hugged the dwarf, “OH, THANK YOU, VARRIC!!!”

He laughed out loud before patting her upper back, “You’re lucky I’m such a great liar… Vivienne looked at me like she’s going to kill me. You’d better head to the Kid, he’s worried sick about you. And come down the tavern when you’re done with him, I could use a drink.”

Idril nodded, and she quickly kissed his cheek, before striding towards the ramparts that headed to the top of the tavern’s roof. Varric smirked, and rubbed his cheek, feeling his face warming a bit, before heading down the stairs that led to his friend, the Champion of Kirkwall, Amanda Hawke.

Hawke looked at the Inquisitor, running around the ramparts in nothing but a corset and underclothes, with the rampart guards still saluting her despite her appearance, and she chuckled as she shook her red-haired head, her green eyes sparkling with mirth, as Varric stood beside her, “It’s never boring in Skyhold, is it?”

The dwarf laughed as he took the bottle of wine at a cask near the Champion’s feet, “No, never boring, my friend.”

Hawke laughed again, before the two of them sat down on stools and looked at the castle, “Well, one thing is for sure.” She said as she took the bottle from Varric after the dwarf had drank from it, “She still a commanding woman, even in her under clothes.”

 


	7. Cole

“Dark… slowly enclosing. She’s bound, bothered, barely breathing… can’t breathe… can’t breathe… the bones pinch at her waist and ribs, hurting… her heart beating wildly at her throat… darkening, dimming… help me… help…”

The thin, light haired young man’s hand moved in reflex, grabbing the small knife at his lower back, just as the door that led to the ramparts burst open, with Idril running breathlessly toward him, her face pale. At the sight of him, she ran and turned around, showing him her back. With a flick of his wrist, his knife split apart the laces that held the corset together, and Idril breathed in as offending fabric ripped apart away from her body, and she collapsed in a heap down the floor by his feet.

“Thank you, Cole… I needed that.” Idril gasped out as she breathed in deep, and exhaling luxuriously. The young man crossed his legs and sat down on the floor beside her, looking disappointedly at the ripped corset.

“I ripped them. I’m sorry.” Cole’s gentle voice said, and she smiled as she patted his hand. “Don’t worry, I think Josephine has more of them.”

Cole nodded, “Colors… so many colors… green, silver, blue… no white, it would make her look like snow. Yes, Josephine has more of them. Was this the thing that was hurting you?”

She smiled up at him, “Yes, it was.”

The young man’s head tilted as he took the fabric in his hands, “If it… hurts you, why would you wear it?”

Idril arranged herself so that she was leaning on the wall while sitting on the floor, and Cole mimicked the position beside her, “Vivienne made me wear it. She was fitting me with clothes to wear at the ball in Halamshiral.”

“Clothes… do I have to wear clothes like this, too?” Cole asked innocently, and she smiled gently at him, “No, Cole. Josephine made you a suit with the others. I’ll give it to you when it’s done.”

“But… if people can’t see me, why should I wear a suit?” He asked again.

“Well… there are people there who will need their hurts healed, too, Cole. If the others see you, you should be discreet with what you’re wearing. It would be like… camouflage. To hide from the assassin.”

“Like shadows, lingering, blending… always there but not noticeable… yes, I understand now.” Cole said, and he looked at her with relief, “Blood, blushing, rushing… a flush spreading through her cheeks… breath returning to normal… you feel much better now. You’re not pale anymore. I am glad.”

She smiled brightly at him, “Yes, I feel much better now. Thank you again, Cole.”

The young man smiled a little, “You’re welcome, Inquisitor.”

She reached up and touched the brim of his hat, seeing a tear on it, “I’m going to get you a new hat for the party, Cole. Would you like that? We’re not going to get rid of this one, though, but I might need to get it sewn.”

“Yes, I’d like that…” But he stopped when he heard a strange noise come out of her stomach, “Loud, rumbling, boiling… you’re hungry.”

Idril laughed out loud before standing up, with Cole following suit, “Yes, I guess I am. I haven’t eaten since morning. I’m going to head down to Sera, she always has cookies. Would you like to come with me?”

Cole shook his head, “Demon… creature… bucket-hatted shite… shite… no, I do not think I should. She’s still afraid of me.”

She nodded and touched his hand again, and Cole looked down at it, “Alright, I’ll see you later, Cole.”

The human/spirit of Compassion smiled up at her, “How do you know?”


	8. Sera

The short-haired blond elf looked up to see another elf walking towards her room, and immediately a grin spread her features, “’Ey, Inky! Walking around in your undergarments… really freeing, yeah?”

Idril laughed and entered the room, grabbing a robe on top of Sera's pile of random clothes, putting it on before flumping down at the pile of pillows near her bed, “Not really, I was running too fast away from Vivienne. She was making me wear a corset and puffy skirts.”

Sera laughed and sat down beside her, “Eeewww… puffy skirts. Marshmallow skirts. Who can stand that, right? Metal things going up your arse when you sit down. No wonder Orlesian tits are so annoying. So, what are you really here for?”

Idril grinned and fanned a hand across her face, “Cookies, darling. You must have some cookies.” She said, imitating Vivienne’s voice perfectly, causing Sera to burst out laughing, rolling in the bed, “I will faint on my arse if you don’t give me cookies. I’m so dreadfully hungry.”

“Oy, don’t do that, yeah? Talking like that witchy pisser makes you sound stupid.” Sera said when she finally quieted down from laughing. “I think I have some, right here. Here you go.”

Idril took the jar that Sera gave her, and she looked at it with a critical eye, “Is this… from the kitchens?”

“Yeah.” Sera said as she lifted a cookie from a jar and started munching on it as she lay down on the bed, “They gave me a new jar, yeah? Filled it with cookies.”

 _Oh right,_ Idril remembered, _they gave her this so that we’d stop making a mess in there._ “So, what’re you up to recently, Sera?”

The elf let out a maniacal giggle, “Nothing much, really. I was thinking of doing some pranks on that First Enchanter prissy-pants, yeah? Got any ideas?”

Idril laughed, “Oh, I don’t know. Vivienne is pretty hard to scare. But she was going to make me wear a pink dress…”

“Ohhhh! That’s a good one, yeah? I’ve got a friend who does the laundry. Maybe we could get her to dye all of her Orlesian shite pink…”

“Oh no no no… not pink. Periwinkle maybe…”

 


	9. The Iron Bull

“Oy, Bull, up here, yeah?!”

The tall, muscular Qunari looked up to see two grinning elven girls from the upper floor of the tavern, and his face split into a grin when he saw the violet eyed one, “Hey, boss! Perfect timing! Get down here, Varric’s here already!”

Idril grinned and moved away from the railing just as Sera vaulted off and jumped into the air, landing down at the table in front of Varric and Bull, causing the dwarf to almost spill his drink, the amber liquid of his ale slopping down his hairy chest.

“Andraste’s knickerweasels, you almost killed me!” Varric complained as Sera and Bull started laughing, and making Idril look confused as she neared the table, and sitting down beside the Bull. At the sight of Varric, Idril grinned and jumped over the table, kissing the dwarf on his ale-slopped cheek, “Thanks again, Varric!”

“You owe me something fierce, your Inquisitorialness.” Varric said, wiping his chest as Idril settled down to sit again, “I saw Vivienne a moment ago, and I tell you, if looks could kill… I think I’d rather fight during a Blight rather than have her look at me like that again.”

Idril waved a hand, “Oh, Varric… fine, I’ll buy you a bottle of Orlesian wine to give to her as an apology.”

The dwarf grinned at her, “If that’s the case, I think I’d keep that bottle for myself rather than give it to her.” He looked up at the Iron Bull, “Are your boys going to play, Bull? Or are you pinching their coin so they won’t play against you?”

The Qunari laughed out loud, “I’m not like that, Varric. In fact, Josephine already gave our salaries yesterday. Krem’s getting drinks right now.” He turned around and looked at his mercenaries, “CHARGERS! WHO’S UP FOR A GAME OF WICKED GRACE WITH THE INQUISITOR?!”

“AYE!!!” His men shouted back, and Idril laughed when she found their table filled with Iron Bull’s men, with Krem sitting beside her after setting a cask of what looked like Golden Scythe 4:90 Black on the table, and a bottle of Aggregio for Idril, which was her favorite.

“So who’s dealing?” Idril asked, as Sera disappeared to the underneath of the table with a flagon of the Black.

“I will.” Varric said, but Iron Bull laughed, “No offense, dwarf, but you cheat when you’re shuffling the cards. Let the Boss do it.”

Idril laughed when Varric had the gall to look offended, “Ben-Hassrath, remember?”

The dwarf finally sighed and passed the deck of cards to her, “Fine, fine. Hard to argue with someone several heads taller than me. I’m betting five silvers.”

Iron Bull’s eye glinted, “Ten silvers here!” and soon everyone had started placing their bets on the table, with Idril placing ten silvers as well.

She laughed at the pile of coins in the middle as she started distributing the cards, “No Cullens, you understand? No betting clothing!”

At this reminder, Iron Bull waved his hand, “Wait, wait… No Cullens? Impossible! First game is ours, Inquisitor! My clothes for yours, and vice versa… for the entire night!”

Idril’s eyes widened in shock, and blood flooded her face, causing her to turn red as Varric and the rest of the Chargers laughed and cheered, causing Iron Bull to look smug. At the sight of the Iron Bull’s face, she grinned, and started shuffling the cards again.

“Fine, let’s see how much of a ‘bull’ you are then.”

 


	10. Cassandra Pentaghast

“Maker, what happened here?”

The Seeker stood in front of a table in the darkened tavern, her eyes shocked at the sight that lay before her. On the table, stark naked with a cheese wheel covering his… parts, was the Iron Bull, snoring loudly, with both horns stuck in wooden mugs and a cask of ale. All around him, drunk and asleep in various positions, were the Chargers. Sera was asleep underneath the table, blissfully unaware of the mayhem on top of the table. Her gray eyes looked around to see Idril, bent over and sleeping, sitting some distance from the table, clutching several articles of clothing, which, she surmised, included Bull’s pants and harness, Krem’s armor, Skinner’s dagger, Rocky’s hood, and strange enough, Varric’s crossbow, Bianca.

“Yeah, that was the last thing I bet before she fell like that.” A voice sounded beside her, and she looked down to see Varric, looking tipsy but not fully drunk, carefully prying the crossbow from Idril’s arms.

“And why are you not as drunk as they are, Varric?” Cassandra said suspiciously, causing the dwarf to look up at her.

“I know my limits, Seeker, and I know how to take care of our dear Inquisitor.” Varric said, grinning at her, “She’ll have a horrid headache tomorrow morning, I’m sure. Make sure she gets plenty of rest…”

“So that Josephine can’t disturb her, is that it?” Cassandra said, crossing her arms, “You planned this, all along, didn’t you? Josephine came to me, half crying because she couldn’t find her, and now here she is, conveniently drunk.”

Varric laughed, “I wish I had thought of that, but no, I didn’t plan it to go like this. She may be the Inquisitor, Seeker, but she needs ordinary days like these to keep her sane.” The dwarf holstered Bianca on to his back again as he turned to leave the tavern. “I’ll see if that Warden can come by to take her to her room, Maker knows you can’t carry her by yourself.”

Cassandra sighed as she sat down beside the Inquisitor, but her movements woke the silver-haired elf, and gave her a lopsided-smile, “Hiyaaa, Cassss…” she said drunkenly.

She snorted at the scent of liquor in the Inquisitor’s breath, “Maker, how did you get drunk like that?”

“Golden Scythe… Aggreeeeegio… and a liiiiiiiiiitle bit of Antivan wine.” Idril muttered as she continued to grin like a fool, “It was… sooooo much fun…”

“And the clothes? How did you get the Bull’s pants?”

At this, Idril giggled and put a finger to her lips and made a shushing sound, “Shhhh… I cheated….”

Cassandra laughed a little and shook her head, “Josephine was looking for you all day, Inquisitor…”

But Idril had closed her eyes and muttered, “Don’t want… puffy… skirts….”, before her head rolled to the side and she started snoring, just as Leliana came in, smiling at her, carrying a blanket.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Cassandra said as she stood up to greet the spymaster, “You allowed her to get this drunk?”

Leliana smiled as she bent down over Idril, covering her with a blanket, “During the Fifth Blight, the Warden often drank with Oghren and Zevran, and then soon with all of us, even Morrigan. Once, the two of us tried to bring Alistair down, but even though they were both Wardens, she still got drunk faster than he did. She was such a lightweight. She would get drunk faster than I would.”

But the Seeker remained unimpressed, “What does that have to do with it?”

“When we went our separate ways… the day she married Alistair… she hugged me.” Leliana said fondly, “She said that ordinary days like that when we got drunk was the best for her, because those were the days when she saw our smiles, heard our laughs and our stories… and made her realize that if the Blight continues, our smiles would fade, and we would all fall. The Inquisitor needs to have days like that… so that she would always remember what she’s fighting for, just as the Jenna Cousland did.”

Cassandra grew quiet, and soon large heavy footsteps echoed towards them as Blackwall entered the tavern and saw them. At the sight of Idril on the floor and of a naked Iron Bull, he laughed a little, “Looked like it was quite a party, a shame I missed it.”

She bent over and touched Idril’s brow as Leliana moved away to return to her rookery, “Warden Blackwall, please bring our Inquisitor back to her quarters, and tell Josephine to let her rest tomorrow. I will rouse the Chargers out of their stupor, and then I will be speaking to her later this evening with Cullen and Leliana.”

The Warden nodded as he bent over the elf, “Certainly. Come now, girl, let’s get you right and proper back at your bed.”

But Idril opened her eyes a little and looked at Cassandra as Blackwall lifted her into his arms, “I’m sorry… Cass…”

But the Seeker smiled and tucked a strand of the Inquisitor’s stray hair off her forehead, “You’re forgiven. But next time… when you have a day like this… invite me.”

 


	11. Blackwall

_“No man could beat the Chargers, cuz we’ll hit you where it hurts. Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we’ll gladly raise a cup, no matter what tomorrow holds, our ears be pointing up!!!”_

Blackwall laughed out loud at the minor editing of the Charger’s song, made appropriate for Idril’s ears, as he carried the drunken elf back into the castle. The grand hall was blissfully empty now that it was evening, although he could see a woman by the throne. He shifted Idril as she continued to move on his shoulder like a writhing sack of grain, which was how he decided to carry her should the lightweight decided to throw up. At the sound of her singing, the woman by the throne moved forward, which turned out to be Josephine. The Warden felt a bit of heat rise up his cheeks as she came forward.

“Sweet Andraste, I’ve been looking for her!” Josephine said, her accented Antivan voice sounding annoyed, “And now Leliana tells me she’s been in the tavern all this time?”

“Drinking with the Chargers, yes.” Blackwall said, smiling down at the woman, “She’s had too much to drink, I’m afraid. Perhaps the Chargers hid her whenever you came by this morning.”

“Ugh! That Iron Bull… and now I won’t be able to get her fitting for her dress.” Josephine complained, and she wrote something down on her ledger, “And now I would have to reschedule her again tomorrow…”

“Cassandra said the Inquisitor is not to be disturbed even tomorrow. Golden Scythe would mean she is in for the worst hang over in her life.” Blackwall said, opening the door that led to Idril’s room with Josephine following at his heels. “She said she’ll be by later once she’s roused up the Chargers to discuss something with you. I am to call on Cullen once I’ve settled her into her bed. Leliana would be in the War Room by now.”

Josephine blinked as they finally reached Idril’s room, “Oh right, of course. Thank you, Warden Blackwall.”

A sudden retching made both of them stop in the middle of the room, and Josephine covered her nose and backed away as Idril promptly threw up on the Orlesian carpet of her room, still hanging like a sack on the Warden’s shoulders. Blackwall looked up at the ceiling and shook his head before peeking at Josephine behind him, “Is there vomit on my clothes, Josephine?”

The young lady shook her head, still covering her nose, but she added, “There’s none on your clothes… but they are on your boots.”

“Great.” Blackwall muttered out, “Mind that you get some servants to clean her up and get rid of that carpet, Ambassador.”

“Absolutely.”

 


	12. Cullen Rutherford

The room was dark, and heavily scented with lavenders when he came in. He could see her, lying on her bed, dressed in a nightshirt with a glass of what looked like potion on the table beside her. He smiled a little as he moved forward, seeing her beautiful face by the light of the moon on her balcony. He sat by her bed, but his movements made her blink awake and look up at him. But he sighed in relief when she smiled up at him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, Inquisitor.” He muttered out, reaching to push the errant hairs on her forehead away from her face.

“It’s actually good you woke me, I was having a bit of a nightmare.” She replied, reaching up to his hand to hold it, squeezing it lightly.

“Anything you care to share?”

“I dreamt I was drowning in a sea of Golden Scythe.” She said, causing him to chuckle, “And that Bull and the Chargers and Varric and Sera were rowing away from me, laughing.”

“Yes, Josephine did tell us about what happened this evening. By the way, she has agreed that you would be wearing the same suit as us to the ball. I told her you would not be able to fight in a dress, should we encounter the assassin.” He said, still smiling at her, “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better, now that I won’t have to wear that stupid dress and now that I’ve seen you.” Idril sighed as his hand settled on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as she held on to it, “I didn’t see you all day. Even though I ran around Skyhold trying to avoid Josephine.”

“I was a little busy with training our men, Inquisitor.” Cullen said, “But I will be here the whole day tomorrow, perhaps you could oblige me with a game of chess in the garden.”

She smiled, illuminating her face, “I’d like that.” He shifted a bit as he smiled, and Idril saw his face. She looked at him worriedly as she reached up and touched his cheek, “Cullen, have you been sleeping? You look tired.”

He shook his head as he took her hand and kissed it, “I’m on my way to sleep now, your Worship.”

But Idril shifted, moving to the other side of the bed, and Cullen felt a little disappointed as she moved away. But he blinked when she patted the side she had occupied and looked up expectantly at him, and he realized she was asking him to sleep beside her.

“Inquisitor, I can’t… I… I have my room…”

“That tower with the broken roof, where a draft could give you a cold or snow can fall on you? No, definitely not.” Idril said, before smiling gently at him, “I promise… I won’t do anything you don’t like, Cullen.”

Cullen sighed, but he shifted as he removed his armor and his boots, as well as his coat. Standing on his pants and undershirt, he moved the blankets away and slid into the bed beside her. “Maker, the servants are going to have a feast out of the gossip from this.”

Idril laughed, “Don’t worry, I trust you. I know you’re a gentleman.”

Cullen groaned out loud as he finally settled down beside her on his side facing her, wrapping the covers around him. “Well, honestly, I don’t trust myself right now, Inquisitor.”

“You’ll be fine, just get some sleep.” Idril said, and Cullen closed his eyes and sighed.

But soon he felt Idril moving, lifting up his arm. He peeked at her as she turned her back to him, and settled his arm on her waist so that they were ‘spooning’. Idril’s hair tickled his face, but he smelled the scent of lavender on them, and he breathed in deep as he tried to still his heart… and his urges… when her body pressed against him. “You cheater.” He chuckled, before pulling her towards him tighter.

“I did say that I won’t do anything you _don’t_ like.” She said, sounding amused.

Cullen laughed a little, “If I may say so, Inquisitor, shut up and get some sleep. We have another ordinary day tomorrow.”

“Right. Goodnight, Cullen.”

“Goodnight…. Idril.”

 


End file.
